


a rotting edelweiss

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke
Genre: Historical Inaccuracies, Other, dark underlying themes, everything is platonic and under maybe????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A being slithers around your arm and your neck. If it's a vine: you have fallen in love. If it's a snake: you are now filled with venom. What is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Akashi's hands gently ran over the wrinkles of the letter, he stopped to focus on a certain sentence and then let his hand sweep over the letter.  
  
It was a cold, autumn morning and his back hurt from keeping such an upright position. The sun was a grey shade of yellow, with thin, white clouds stretching across a blue void. There were no birds; everything was quiet, calm and stable. The trees had decaying leaves with hopeless streaks of grass dancing very slowly.  
  
Akashi thought about the Edelweiss he saw in Europe. White cottony petals with a bright yellow middle; being most prized in their natural state; shying away from the tender hands holding them out to him. He thought about the Nasturtiums whom were petite and orange and how children would merrily gather around them with large, toothy smiles. The memories of flowers made Akashi think of Reo, an old servant who'd carefully decorate vases with only the most precise flowers with the least negative connotation. Reo died inside a vacant room on the second floor, his body curled up and limbs tangled. Akashi was fourteen and for the first time, saw black roses.  
  
His toes scrapped across the small pebbles on the ground and the letter was folded into a small, crisp square and put into his pocket. He looked at the sun and its white wings, the mystery that lined the horizon and the brown haired boy, standing behind him.  
  
"What are you?" his Japanese lacked the native accent that it once had and implied that he had eaten his shell. His voice now came from his diaphragm and holds authority and confidence. He thought it only made him blend in more with his father's loyal allies, the ones whom borrowed his money and used his influence.  
  
The boy stared for a few more seconds and then looked away. He is skinny, dirty, weak and smells like perfume. His eyes are big but he has small, beady pupils, almost reminding Akashi of a  ghoul or monster. There is nothing noteworthy about this boy, nothing that would peak interest or change his situation.  
  
"Are you uneducated?" Akashi asked again, the boy gave no answer, but the small voice in the back of Akashi's head did.  
  
'It's been confirmed.'  
  
\--

Burnt umber hair and two toned eyes are by no doubt, nothing, absolutely nothing like the perfect Aryan. They were features extracted from his father and his whole family suffered from it. Soldiers would raise noses and his father became nothing more than a pot to pull material from. Whatever class, money or privileges this family had in Japan, they had none in Germany. They would not make an exception for a staged murder, if it wasn't for the respect and importance they had in Japan. The Akashi family learned this and quickly begun to reincarnate the ties they had and once again, began to prosper.  
  
Akashi never disliked going to Germany, the atmosphere was amazing and the country was prospering. He learnt the language fairly quickly and cultural differences was a concept never applied to Akashi. The only thing that made his skin prickle the most was the nomenclature that decided his family's future.  
  
\--  
The boy came back the next with sweets, he gave them to Akashi. They were given in a disgusting box with a burgundy wash; it had dents, smears of mud and signs of use and age. It was sealed with a golden ribbon that had lackluster, with rips anywhere possible, the inability to properly seal the box and of course, the bow on the ribbon was tied in a messy, rushed way. If someone with extremely precise eyesight, someone like Akashi, looked more closely, they'd see brief faded images of Gardenia flowers.  
  
Akashi looked up at the boy and returned the boy. "I could have one hundred of these made out of gold or platinum. What makes you think I need them?"  
  
The boy shook his head, "It's the only thing I had to offer you. I c-can't just let someone like you—" He paused and shook his head, "It wouldn't be very nice if I let you be."  
  
"I see, so even Daschunds like you can rephrase sentences."  He took the box and set it down in his lap, mentally cursing at the boy for presenting such an ugly reflection of poverty. "Why don't you return back from where you came from, certainly they must need you." He lied quite insensitively when he said that, he couldn't tell a truth that wouldn't be degrading.  
  
"No, not, really, I'm just a cleaner, actually. I'm not that important. Not like you." Akashi knew that, suspected that and read that from his body language. He did a second confirm of decaying interest in the boy and turned away. Disgusted by how the boy seemed to perfectly meld into every other shadow Akashi had in his life.  
  
"That's perfectly fine with me," Akashi said.  
  
\--  
  
Intelligence always seemed like a catalyst for a bright future to Akashi, it is something to have, to be nurtured and treated as a caste. This mentality only held up until he was seventeen, three years after Reo died, nine years after his mom did; because his features did not align. He did not align, his composition did not align, nothing about Akashi was wanted here and although he put the native Germans to shame in athletics and mathematics—  
  
He was at risk.  
  
"Stay quiet, attract no attention and you'll survive," Elein said, "you still have more use for your father. Remember Akashi, burn yourself against a brick wall and shed any soft skin."  
  
Elein died not because of illness and not because of old age crashing its hammer down onto her spirit. She died because she was more preferred than Akashi but forgot about the colour of her eyes. She had no funeral and her corpse was devoured by dogs. They said they put her to better use. They said she was an insult to the nation, that she her patriotic nature only ran for money and that he would end up like her too, one day. Someone like him would stand out more than her and death would be his pardon.  
  
\--  
  
Dogs run after you, they are playful and persistent and roll in mud. Not humans, not brown-haired, beady eyed peasants that smelled like brothel and failure. Akashi was not a source of entertainment and the boy was someone not to be entertained.  
  
"Do you want me to kill you?" asked Akashi. A shake of head was given, "then leave and never return." A shake of the head was given. "Do you want pity?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yes?" Akashi raised an eyebrow and stared at the boy, "You want pity? Is that what people like you feed off of?"  
  
He raised his ankle in return; bruised and swollen. He showed various angles of it, even displayed how pressure couldn't be applied on it and slumped against the wall behind him. "It doesn't work."  
  
"No, it does not, I suppose," he stared at the ankle. He carefully observed the blossoms of purple and red, the stick-like bones poking out from all sort of angles. There was an angry red mark spread across the space above toes and a darker, more velvet mark on his shin.  
  
Akashi always liked the aesthetics of bruises. The lovely purples and blues and how they could stain even the purest skin. The colours softy merge in a wonderful painting, with exquisite colours painted with a paintbrush of the finest horse hairs. They'd harshly mark the body and bleed so beautifully inside of skin.  
  
"Why are you here?" asked Furihata. "There's nothing here for you. You should leave."  
  
"I have purpose," replied Akashi.  
  
\--  
  
Before Akashi's mother died, her sister had a child. The child was healthy and chubby, as any other baby should be.  
  
The baby had its name changed five times. Tsukiko, Sayar, Nakira, Riza and Asyumo. Eventually, Asyumo's files were completely corrupt. None of them were consistent, needed constant changing and confusion was always being caused. Soon enough, Asyumo and the rest of her family had slowly stopped updating her files. Her life was filled with a jumbled mess of identity and no one knew her name.  
  
This served a greater purpose in the future, because Asyumo served as a perfect spy. She could never be traced back, possessed multiple identities and was raised in a way to let her become sly and secretive.  
  
But, before Asyumo reached the age of fifteen—the age where forced duties consumed her and she disappeared—Reo was constantly taking care of Asyumo, gracing her with flowers everyday. When Reo had found out about the Asyumo's family's intention with her lost identity, he immediately protested against the concept. He thought of Asyumo as a young bud, slowly blooming. Changing the wonderful environment she was in and shoving her in a swamp would serve no good. Yet, he was not listened to. Asyumo was educated using unconventional ways, was taught unconventional things. Asyumo could easily tell you the slope of a ramp, but she was better at identifying micro expressions or naming books circled around the subject of Anthropology.  
  
Reo showed a very symbolic was of his sorrow; he was  constantly placing Syringas in Asyumo's room.  Purple flowers from foreign Eastern European countries that were illegally imported. When it was time for Reo to return back to the Akashi Manor, he simply let the Syringas be and gripped Seijurou's hands with warmth and passion.  
  
\--  
  
His presence was not completely degrading, Akashi noticed. The boy was pathetic, had no parents and worked in a comfort station. Yet, despite Akashi's constant malevolent remarks, and the boy's incoherent speaking patterns; the boy was placid. It amused Akashi at first, but then brought a sense of serenity. The juxtaposition of the boy and Germany was laughable.  
  
"You're so incredibly punctual," Akashi noted, "Is this your recreation time?"  
  
The boy hesitated, "Y-yeah, the brothel is pretty strict about their schedules so." He stopped immediately, looking straight at Akashi, "What's your name?"  
  
Akashi was certainly surprised. When his family was moving to Germany, it was news to behold. Every announcement, piece of news or conversation mentioned this emigration, but it seems the paupers were an exception.  
  
"How did you know I was someone of important status?" Akashi demanded.  
  
"I saw an article with your picture in it, the only piece of information that was given was  your family going to Germany." Furihata looked down nervously, a blush blooming across his features.  
  
"If you're truly intrigued, my name is Akashi Seijurou. You should use the suffix of 'san' to address me."  
  
"Akashi-san, huh?" His eyes widened and his gaze was instantly shot to Akashi's eyes, "T-then." he paused. "You must know who Nakira-san is, right?"  
  
\--  
  
Furihata Kouki was born in the slums of Japan. He had no parents, identity or means of achieving a successful life. He worked tiring, abusive hours at the Brothel with a two hour grace period. He was bound to life where he was barely feeding himself with scraps yet; for some inexplicable reason, he didn't mind.  
  
Helping the women clean themselves, listening to their stories, playing with the younger children, it all brought a sense of unity to him. He knew that money always trumped everything else, but living with these people made it seem like he had mothers and sisters and younger cousins who were addicted to chocolate.  
  
Furihata knew he would die without a purpose and he lived without one also, yet he felt a strange longing to go on. He felt everything would get better one day, and when it did, everything would be worth it. For now, though, he resigned himself to this life. Constant scrubbing and cleaning, dealing with customers with misconceptions, staying up late to comfort anyone—it was a lifestyle.  
  
There was one wonderful perk to working at a comfort station and that was the people. There would be times when an interesting character would drop by and say hello and those moments were the most amazing because he learned the most in these moments, these situations. If his reality were poison, then these brief fleeting moments would be his antidote.  
  
The first person he met taught him to read and write and it was an angry old man looking for his granddaughter.  
  
\--  
  
"You're lying to me," the boy with red hair replied. "She's disappeared. She—" he glanced at Furihata and glared. "Stop."  
  
"I don't have a reason to lie to you," Furihata replied. "I knew her. She was here and breathing. Alive, with long brown hair and saggy, tired eyes. I've seen her and talked to her. She talked about you, I think. She talked a lot."  
  
The weather was strange today. Thick grey clouds and humid air, the perfect time for weather to bear its thorns. Yet, if you looked close enough, you could see a small petal of blue sky drifting with the grey clouds. Many children would aimlessly stare at the sky, confused but having a difficulty explaining it. The old would sit outside and watch the children become confused and simply laugh.  
  
"Keep going."  
  
The response was short, curt and to the point.  
  
"She was here to find someone. An old woman who used to be in charge of a neighbouring Brothel, apparently this woman has underground links. That's all she told us, though. Nakira talked a lot, but not about anything important. She would mostly lay down with her arms stretched past her head and sigh. She always seemed tired about something too, but no one ever knew why. In fact she just. . . " he trailed off. "She just never talked about anything important."  
  
Akashi sighed and looked down, Furihata quickly stopped talking.  
  
\--  
  
"Dear Seijurou,  
  
It's been so long since I've seen written to you! I have to say sorry, time isn't a concept that's significant to me right now. If you're wondering, I'm situated near a brothel in Kyoto.  
  
The people here are very nice! There's a boy I met here, he does everything I tell him to. You'd probably hate him, he's so incredibly weak and has no sense of self. It's laughable, though, because I'd probably hate him too but his naivety is incredibly refreshing.  
  
Everything is always so clouded, Seijurou, this boy isn't. His intentions are straightforward, he never has hidden motive and he's easy to understand and manipulate. Don't you get it though? I can't manipulate him.  
  
I can't use him as a puppet to find out Baba Shimeji's underground connections because I know he'll get murdered and it destroys me knowing that and also the fact that I can't return home until I do something hurts me. I'm torn right now, I'm conflicted. All I can do is lay down, eat sweets and ramble and talk. But I'm running out of something to say, I can feel it.  
  
I don't know what's going to happen; but don't worry about me. It's not a big deal and I'll get over it, whatever it is. Just reply and keep me updated on everyone, okay?"  
  
\--  
  
Akashi looked down at the ground and then back up. Why was the boy so significant? Why did she attract herself to him so much? He had nothing to provide and nothing to earn, he will be born and he will die; there's nothing to it. Nakira has always been a mystery, yet choosing to attach herself to some kind of peasant is ridiculous. Admittedly, it was nothing unexpected for Akashi; no matter what sort of treatment Nakira was put through, she always could stay humane.  
  
Yet, Akashi felt, this boy could bring closure. Although, Akashi needs closure and the corpse rotting in the dirt also begged for it. It was definitely confirmed, this was the boy in the letter that Nakira talked with and adored so dearly and the boy who held the key to finding out whether Rize and Asyumo were real people. He could feel himself inching closer to the reason of her disappearance; just footstep more.  
  
Akashi pressed his fists in his lap and made sure to keep his posture. Where could the incredibly punctual boy be? Akashi first looked past his shoulders, observed the area and then let his feet touch the ground. He stepped in a circle and then stopped, his initial observation is right: the boy was late. A clear contradiction of the statement the boy gave to Akashi before.  
  
Akashi remember his bruised ankle; the way he stuttered when he talked about the brothel. It didn't take even a fragment of a second for Akashi's brain to make calculations and for Akashi to take long strides in the direction of the brothel. He would get his needed data and then leaved, the boy was right; he had no purpose in being surrounded by rotting parts of humanity.  
  
This is interesting, Akashi mused, so incredibly interesting. First Nakira disappears and my hint closest to her disappearance also leaves. What a coincidence. What a wonderful reason to tuck a pistol in my pants and carefully grip it. His flattened his palm against his hip and then curled his fingers in the fabric. What an amazing day to forget it.  
  
He took another step and then looked forward, the brother is in clear sight. He could step back and get reinforcements; only guaranteeing his safety and his dignity even more. This was an idea that Akashi could not think of, because after all the false prospects of safety and alliances, he could not ask for help from a man who couldn't help himself.  
  
So with all his pride on display, Akashi started to march forward again. He was simultaneously maintaining his heartbeat and preparing for a lie. He kept walking mechanically and the distance between him and the brothel could be measured with a flower vine. He didn't stop and walked straight into the brothel and straight into fate.


	2. Philosophy & Geishas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You had no choice, it was a serpent.

The brothel was deserted, due to the fact that the times were now up. Akashi gazed up at the sky. It was a dark navy colour with pockets of purple and light blue. Strands of clouds migrated to other worlds, revealing the hidden diamonds fixated eons away from Akashi's fingertips. Humans have stopped bathing in the light of day, and begun to retreat with night slowly trailing behind their feet. A warm breeze was present, a comforting feeling against the coldness of the night and the emptiness of an orange moon, looking radioactive in place. Every shadow now lingered with long tails and arms, staying calm in their spots and swaying with every shift in light. The night would be long and tiresome, guaranteeing exaggerated words and rapid crescendos being poured from throats.  
  
His foot hesitantly began guiding him, his pride taking place in Akashi's toes, edging him along with biased logic. He felt no need to counter the actions he was taking right now, he has no reason for anxiety or nervousness. He maintained a confident gait, punctuated by the tap of his heel against the rock ground. Crossing the distance, Akashi subconsciously held his breath and let his fingers curl themselves, he then letting his knuckles attack the centre of the door.  
  
The door opened very slowly, too slowly and Akashi wanted nothing more to pry it open and aggressively stomp through everyone. But he reminded himself of his purpose and stayed calm, disposing of any other emotion distracting Akashi of his own goal.  
  
"We're close, ye bastard," said a young female voice. "Hmph, go back all o' ya shootin' 'nd murder 'nd then ever (she slurred the words) returnin'. We'ere all dun', all emptied 'nd tired. No Geisha 's waitin' for ya'."  
  
"I'm not here for you, or the services you may provide, I wish to take to Furihata Kouki. He works here, does he not?" Akashi desperately wanted to see the face of the man who only used slurs to communicate. The door held mystery and obscured indentity of the other woman, it was common knowledge of Akashi to know the woman you speak to. "Open the door."  
  
"Ok', I'll open it, n' then open again 'nd a thousan' times jus' for ya'," the door was  opened and countenance did not match voice. A young woman with long, wavy black hair revealed herself. She had brown skin, a deeper tan flowing down her arms and her whole body had many vine-like scars stretching across it, some with dark red petals rotting from them. Her slanted eyes were framed by thick brows, almost reddish-black, she had a small mouth but a plump lower lip and a slender nose. The girl was small but had long legs and large breasts with her arms slung over them. To further her appearance, she had small but curly eyelashes and the most beautiful wrists Akashi had ever seen. "You arn't really 'llowed 'ere."  
  
"Yes I am," with that short, uninterested response, Akashi pushes the door open and walks by the girl, observing the lounging area of the brothel. "For a brothel, you tend to keep this place well. . . done."  
  
The walls were a soft lavender colour, covered with intricate designs of birds, flowers and small, tiny butterflies hovering around the flowers. Lined against the walls were the couches for the Geisha to sit on; tall, cream coloured and made with deep brown wood. There was a small spot in front of the lounging area that had a table with a pillow and several layers of fabric over it; Akashi decided it was where the Geishas displayed their talents for clients. The surface underneath Akashi's feet was completely made out of wood that was kin to the of couch's wood. Even the very counter the girl worked on was accented with wispy  designs of leaves and tree branches, every single detail had been made in fine-print.  
  
"Dun' be all high 'n mighty, tis' the three appointments with the Geishers that'll decide what you really are."  
  
\--  
  
The grandfather was someone who always ignored Furihata no matter the case. It was Furihata who ran back to him, who'd watch him and who'd even attempt to help him  
  
This man's reactions to Furihata's actions were not uncommon. He was disgusted at first, but then he quickly warmed up to the boy. He would talk to him and read books and share stories about the times when he was young. Furihata would turn, listen and smile so happily and gratefully that the old man brought a notebook and pencil the next day.  
  
The old man taught him soft, gentle things like love and understanding. How compassion did not equate to weakness and how mercy could be given to anyone if you contained the bravery to do so. The old man was kind  and emitted a calming atmosphere.  
  
He eventually did find his granddaughter and with Furihata's helped, coaxed her to come back to reality. She did, but she made sure to continue sending the old man to Furihata until he became human.  
  
\--  
  
The tap on his shoulder was soft like a petal. Furihata looked over and saw the kneeling form of Akashi.  
  
Akashi did a soft tut and peered over at Furihata, "What is your name?"  
  
Furihata drew in air, shuddered and then answered: "Furihata Kouki."  
  
"What colour is the wall?"  
  
"I don't care," Furihata softly replied as he curled his head back into the ball, pressing it against his forearm. He tried to bring his feet closer in, but then a precise pain shot through his toes. Furihata sat up and grabbed his foot as quickly as he could and began to knead it; he kept rubbing it and rubbing it and rubbing it until—  
  
Akashi gently pressed his hand  under Furihata's foot, long fingers enveloping Furihata's own.  
  
"You must've pulled a muscle; I advocate standing up and applying pressure to it. Make sure you don't curl them, you'll worsen the pain," Akashi said robotically, looking around the room. "You must have subjected yourself to an interesting fate," Akashi noted, "With being curled up in a ball like this."  
  
"Are you just here to," Furihata paused to stare at Akashi, "Mock me?"  
  
Akashi did a dark chuckle and stared back into Furihata, "I'm here for data."  
  
"Data?"  
  
"On Nakira, the women you mentioned previously. She had sent numerous letters to me and in her most recent one, she had mentioned you." Pressing his lips together tightly, Akashi sat down and motioned at Furihata," You must know something."  
  
"I do know something, I just," Furihata sat up and stared at Akashi. It wasn't a gentle, curious stare that a child would; it was piercing, deep and analytical. "You are," Furihata quickly paused, almost abruptly and then stared at his hands, recollected past teachings and then stared back. "I've met a lot of people who didn't like me, who said all kinds of things but eventually they've come to realize that all of this," he gestured to himself, "doesn't matter. You on the other hand, keep persisting on keeping yourself on some kind of pedestal. I don't understand this at all, considering the fact you've lived in Germany and people must've treated you. . . peculiarly."  
  
Akashi sat down, his legs crossed and palms pressed down on the ground beside him. He fingers could feel the dirt accumulate on the back of his clothes and fingertips. "Let me talk abstractly, Furihata Kouki-kun. If there was a person who grew up the notion that because of their talent, their intelligence and way of life, they were more superior than others, why would some contrived way of thinking change any of this?"  
  
"You were unaffected by Germany?" Furihata asked duly, "Wow."  
  
Akashi narrowed his eyes and let his eyes flicker around the room. The boy most likely had received no formal education, probably had never been exposed to anything philosophical life and lived based on sustainability, yet he was able to inference such an accurate and important part of Akashi's life: his treatment in Germany. Furihata Kouki was able to understand that he was treated differently in Germany and this 'different' was negatively affecting him. This was not common, many assumed that Akashi had thrived in Germany and always dreamed of living vicariously through Akashi.  
  
"You have amazing confidence in your accusation, Furihata Kouki. What basis do you have for them?"  
  
"If I'm treated differently for being poor and working here, then you'd obviously be treated like an alien, why does my reasoning matter? Just because I'm uneducated doesn't mean I'm stupid."  
  
"How meek of you."  
  
"I—I'm not like you," Furihata angrily stuttered, "You come here, saying that I'm too confident and you've mentioned many times that I'm uneducated and knowing how close-minded p-people like you can be, you probably shink—think I'm stupid," he grit his teeth and looked away. "I don't like looking down on people and I'm confident i-in my ability to understand that different situations equal different treatment. Just as how here, they o-only want your money but, maybe if you went back to your mansion people would 'love' you." At the end Furihata added something extremely slurred and stuttered to the point where Akashi couldn't understand.  
  
"I've never heard this before," Akashi said softly, very softly. "Never this." Akashi stood back up and looked down at Furihata. Without a word spoken, he took long strides and exited through the door.  
\--  
  
Akashi was here no longer, Furihata thought. Furihata gazed around his surroundings, called Akashi's name but, this brought no results. The man was longer to be seen, no longer took walks here to say hello and then goodbye.  
  
Furihata turned on heel and left.  
  
But then he heard it, heard soft and elaborately  planned  footsteps and turned around to see the graceful gait of one Akashi Seijuro. He was here, Furihata noted, here after such an incredibly long time.  
  
Furihata sat down in the same spot Akashi did a month ago. What would he do? He should start off and apologize for withdrawing information on Nakira—it wasn't his place to do so. Secondly, Furihata should make clear his own reasons for sitting here and waiting for Akashi. It makes no sense to chase after someone who treats you like trash on the side of the road and Akashi must think him even stupider than before. Thirdly, thirdly, he should tell Akashi to go away and he should do so bluntly. He'll give whatever information he has on Nakira and then make sure Akashi never comes back and gets tangled in Furihata's life.  
  
"You should leave here," Furihata began,  as Akashi sat beside him, "Just run away and everything. Go make yourself happy somewhere else." He looked at Akashi, who also held his gaze. Realizing Akashi's interest was piqued, Furihata dropped his pupils down to the ground and kicked at a rock. "Nakira would come around here and then try to talk to the Geishas and clients. She mostly interviewed the Shikomi because they tended to open up to her more than the Geishas themselves. Nevertheless, she got shooed away from here anyways and never came back."  
  
"That's interesting, Furihata-san," answered Akashi with a dull, pensive voice, "but how did you and the girl get employment here? Is she some sort of failure of apprentice?"  
  
 Furihata's shoulders tensed at the question Akashi had suddenly asked; why was his or Satsuki's past significant to the man? Wasn't he here for Nakira? Yet, Furihata decided that he would clarify or release few details about the two parties. If he chose to withdrew, it would be most likely that Akashi would take that as an offence."A-ah, that girl was Satsuki. She's actually a Maiko who was put in charge of the brothel while the other Geisha attended an event. She wandered to the Geisha school when she was seven—I'm not too sure about her age, actually—and refused to leave. Eventually, they took her and began to try to learn about her but Satsuki refused to give any information at all. They also tried to push Satsuki towards prostitution for the American soldiers, but that didn't work either. So one of the Geisha, Botan-san, took Satsuki as an underground apprentice. Botan-san  was really careful with Satsuki and took the whole training process extremely slow. It still is extremely slow, actually, considering the fact Satsuki is still a Maiko; but she'll most likely never become a Geisha." Furihata could feel Akashi's gaze on him, so he swallowed and kept looking down. "Me? Well, I'm just, an orphan who wanders around and got picked up. I usually just clean and then work behind the curtains. Botan-san thinks I should become a Taikomochi but I'm not good at that entertainment stuff so. . ."  
  
"I agree with you, Furihata-san, an individual who gets intoxicated at the back of a brothel would never be fit for Geisha status, also, considering  he does not wear her proper attire ("Satsuki hates the uniforms," Furihata said in a half-hearted attempt) she, mostly likely, could not handle the pressure. Although, I am not interested in this Satsuki character or you—despite my previous question. But I would like to learn about Nakira. Tell me, was Nakira after Baba Shimeji solely for prostitution or other means?"  
  
"Ah, ano, I don't really. . ." he quickly thought if he should meet Akashi's eyes and then decided against it, the man's aura was becoming more interested and all the more vile. "Look, I'm just here to tell you that you should leave this area and forget Nakira. Unless you're here for a Geisha, you should go."  
  
Monochromatic eyes stared at Furihata's side profile, slowly intruding into Furihata's mind. Akashi slowly began to make calculations about the current situations and everything at stake. Something was being withdrawn, he noted, and unless Young Twist himself decides to reveal the cached memories, Akashi knew he had to attain them himself.  He will get the information he wants, even if it means slithering into the crevices of Furihata's brain and becoming an Aphid for his flesh; he will get it. Akashi could see  it; the water in his eyes, the texture in his throat, the heat at his forehead, his brain desperately trying to preserve the situation. Furihata was slowly being devoured by his own pet, Te Hokioi.  
  
Furihata began to wonder why he was getting involved in this type of life and why he had chosen to surround himself with people like Akashi or the Geishas and their clients. What amazing light did people see in their lives to keep hold on humanity? How long does it take to succumb to the despair and inevitable realizations of life? As he kept wondering, as the stinging silence kept prolonging, Furihata realized that he had no answer and no means of continuing a mental game with a man who has the ability to manipulate burned into his palms.  
  
"Well, Furihata-san, have you ever heard of comfort women?" It was an easy question, with only two responses. But, but, the implications of the questions were heavy and the taunting, slithering voice that stated them was hiding its fangs. Where was it, Furihata wondered? The rose whom's petals danced on Akashi's red heart, with thorns but no pain. There were never there, Furihata knew. There were never petals, just a small reptile slithering up a vine, with skin so calloused that thorns never made  it feel.  
  
Brown eyes, looked at monochromatic ones. This was all he saw: thorns, fangs, claws, gun powder and spikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are, once again, 1000 more references in this chap. but im gonna explain three.  
> [1] geishas!! woohoo!! finally!! now tbh there are inaccuracies and shit but i tried to make everything as true as possible?? there were basically japanese entertainers who, in a sense, were very regal and whatnot. ofc, it's unlikely that theyd leave the brothel to momoi to take of and 2. take care of furihata they way they did.   
> [2] momoi!! ye and shes 100x times different than her canon self and i like it?? i just never see momoi being depicted w any flaws at all so. gotta load up. and also yes, she seems hella ooc & if i took the time to give her more exposure, she would have some traits of her canon self but i have 0 reason to include that. so--  
> [3] when akashi called furihata 'young twist', he was making a comparison between furihata and oliver twist. [why is charles dickens dead..........]
> 
> anyways so ye. this is prolly gonna get 0.5 notes b u t, i have a tumblr which is: @ridoma if youre interested in fangirling over geishas and momoi.

**Author's Note:**

> well imma just explain every single reference i used haha.  
> [1]edelweiss flowers are hella popular and were used by austrians to show ther patriotism to germany. ofc, the reason i included these flowers is bc they grow in very harsh mountain climates and germans would often take challenges to present an edelweiss to their lover as a sign of eternal love. edelweiss are known to represent nobility and purity AND they are much like the lotus bc they can grow in such harsh mountain climates and still end up beautiful [unlike akashi LOL]  
> [2] nasturtium flowers represent victory through battle.  
> [3] i hc akashi to have dark red hard/reddish brown hair so. burnt umber hair. umbers are also brown moths.  
> [4]gardenia flowers are used in weddings but theyre also used to profess your secret love for someone.  
> [5]syringas are flowers that if arent taken care of, will produce a white substance and die.  
> hahaha ive always liked the idea of knb x ww2?? actually i just like anything w ww2 dont get me wrong. also, on that topic: there will be historical inaccuracies, esp in terms of the things i may reference in ch.2. AND LASTLY, there is no romance or sweet!akashi or cute!furihata esp bc there are way too many dark underlying things in this au SO 1. akashi is an ass & 2\. furihata is not an ass but he kinda has no ambition lmao


End file.
